


unexpected surprises

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, But Not For Long!, Jaskier is a kitten, M/M, and cursed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt picks up a kitten in the woods, dangerously skinny. But is itreallya kitten? Or the victim of an unusual curse?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 861





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

Geralt had never owned a pet before - unless, of course, you counted any of his many horses. But while Roach was a part of his life, and he truly loved every generation of her, he didn’t just grab a replacement for fun or the company. He _needed_ her, and in a way he saw her as a equal more than anything. Without her, he’d be screwed in a dozen different ways.

He had no interest in a pet. No animal deserved to be dragged from town to town, constantly moving, and in the face of danger almost every night and day. Even if he wanted one, which he _didn’t_ , he would never be so selfish unless - like in Roach’s case - it was absolutely necessary.

That’s why he hadn’t been searching for one when he stumbled across it and went, “Well, _fuck_.”

He had stopped in the woods for the night, followed the usual routine of things - he tied up Roach, started a fire, pulled out his bedroll - before leaving with his sword in search of something for supper. He was stalking a deer when he heard it: a soft rustling from just a few feet away.

Geralt paused, stared at the deer drinking from the stream for a few seconds, before he growled and turned, walking over to the sound. There, in a bed of leaves, was a small fluffy animal, brown and curled up. He squinted, thinking it was a rabbit at first but then -

The animal rolled over and peered up at him with the bluest eyes he had _ever_ seen - in a human or animal - and meowed loudly.

Geralt startled, and he heard - more than saw - as the deer ran off. “Well, _fuck_ ,” he said, for more reasons than one. The cat - kitten, maybe, it was so small - stood up on shaky legs, covered in dirt, and meowed again.

He stared at it.

And stared, and stared.

Looked away, closed his eyes.

 _Don’t_ , he told himself.

But it was in the middle of the woods, obviously by itself, and looked _dangerously_ skinny.

And he _was_ on his way to the nearest town - he could pick the kitten up, care for it, and hopefully drop it off in town. It was dirty, and too skinny, but those _eyes_ \- no doubt someone would pick it up after a couple days.

People - _humans_ \- loved claiming he didn’t have feelings, but far from it.

Geralt opened his eyes and glanced down at the kitten, who had stumbled closer and was sniffing at his feet, swaying back and forth. “How did you even get out here?” he grumbled as he sheathed his sword and crouched down. He had more experience with dogs than cats, which wasn’t saying a lot.

He offered a hand and the kitten sniffed his fingers for a few seconds before suddenly biting one.

The pain was almost nothing. He pulled back, more out of shock than anything. “ _Hey_ ,” he said, “I’m trying to _help_ you, you ungrateful little shit.”

Unsurprisingly the kitten just stared him with big, blue eyes, unblinking. Geralt sighed and picked _him_ \- he checked briefly - up. Geralt returned for the night with no food but a dirty, feisty little kitten. Thankfully he did have some leftover snacks in his bag, which he consumed almost all of before he paused and remembered _right, not alone._

And a kitten wasn’t like Roach, who was pleased just grazing on grass.

The kitten licked his fingers with an unexpectedly rough tongue. Geralt grimaced, wiping his hands off on his trousers. “Okay,” he said, settling in for the night. “I’m not tying you up,” he pointed a finger at the kitten, “so _stay_ because I’m not searching for you in the morning.”

Meowing, the kitten walked up and joined him in his bedroll, curling under his arm.

Geralt sighed, too tired to fight it, and closed his eyes.

*

In the morning, the kitten was still there, curled up and twitching under his arm, obviously dreaming. Geralt sat up and watched him for a few seconds. He had never used the word _cute_ before in his life, and he wasn’t starting _now_ , but if he _had_ to pick a word for the little kitten that wouldn’t _not_ be the right one.

He reached out and lightly nudged the kitten. “Come on,” he grumbled. “You’ll learn quickly that I am not a patient man.”

Ten minutes later, he was on top of Roach with the kitten tucked away in one of his saddlebags.

“Jump out,” he said dryly, “and die.”

The kitten just blinked at him. Shrugging, he turned away and they took off down the dirt path that led to the town.

*

Except -

The town was in ruins when he arrived. Geralt cursed, quickly dismounting Roach, and rushed through but there was nothing - or no one - still standing. He hadn’t visited in a little over a year, sure, but he had assumed the town would be safe. It was a small town with little to offer, good or bad. There was no reason to target them.

But humans _rarely_ needed a reason.

Geralt walked back to Roach. “Well,” he said, looking at the kitten. “Seems like this isn’t your lucky day.”

The kitten shook his head, blinking a few times. Geralt couldn’t just abandon him here - he would be as good as dead, just like in the woods.

The next town was a few miles away; it would take them at least three or four days. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked up at the sky.

“Really?” he asked.

Predictably the only answer he received was a snort from Roach, his trusted companion, and a meow.

*

Traveling with the kitten was… _easier_ than expected, at least. He never actually attempted fleeing the saddlebag, so there was that, but he _was_ a bit annoying, always meowing and yowling. He only ever stopped when he threatened to drop him off somewhere and leave him behind. Geralt had to wonder if he understood him somehow.

On the first - well, _second_ night since having him - night, he pulled them off the dirt path and through the trees. He didn’t stop until he heard the sound of rushing water, because _he_ needed that as well as the kitten.

Geralt prepared things for the night, like he always did, before he grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck and followed the sound of rushing water. It was a stream, not very thick but with water as clear as the sky.

He placed the kitten down and stripped before wading in the water with a sigh.

Turning, he crouched down, extending both hands, the kitten shuffled closer to him - the water. He looked displeased with the water, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. Geralt washed him off, scrubbing away the dirt.

Once he was satisfied, he released the kitten and watched with a snort of amusement as the kitten ran a few feet and dropped in the dirt, rolling in it.

“Great,” he grumbled as he quickly washed himself off.

He barely even realizing he was smiling as he stepped out of the water and redressed, grabbing the kitten. He definitely didn’t pay any attention to the way his medallion was trembling slightly around his neck.

*

In the middle of the night Geralt was woken by the sound of insistent meowing. He opened his eyes and glared at the kitten, standing on his chest and meowing loudly.

“What?” he asked gruffly.

The kitten - predictably - just kept meowing. Geralt frowned, stomach churning. There was something off about the way the kitten was looking at him, yowling like he was in pain. He sat up slowly and lifted the kitten from off his chest.

“What is it?” he asked, though he was obviously not expecting an answer.

Unsure what else to do, he scratched behind one of his ears with a finger. The kitten stopped meowing - blinking once, twice - before he leaned into his touch, eyes closing. The kitten had surprisingly long eyelashes, he noted idly, just as the kitten started purring, nuzzling the palm of his hand. He smiled to himself, glad there was no one around to see it.

Well, maybe it wasn’t _all_ so bad.

*

In the morning Geralt tucked the kitten back in the saddlebag, patting his head. “Stay.”

The kitten just mewled in reply, ears twitching. Nodding, Geralt stepped up and mounted Roach with no difficulty before taking off. They were making good time with no interruptions, and the whole way the kitten just yowled, swaying back and forth in the bag. Every few seconds the kitten would stop, pause, then start again.

Geralt snorted, more amused than anything. Sounded like the little guy was trying to _sing_ or something.

*

He had plans to stop for the night, of course, but they were derailed a bit when the kitten suddenly started hissing, long before he was planning to stop or even take a break; the sun was still in the sky. Geralt tugged on Roach’s reins and she stopped, obedient as ever.

“Hey, hey,” he said, glancing down at the kitten as he struggled out of the bag. Geralt barely caught him before he fell. “I told you _not_ to do that,” he grumbled as he held him in his arms, climbing down.

The kitten struggled and hissed, and Geralt finally crouched, letting him out of his arms. The kitten took off toward the woods, disappearing between bushes.

Geralt stood there for a moment. “I don’t _have_ to go after him,” he said. “He’s not my responsibility.”

Roach nudged him, as she liked to do. He turned to look at her, watching him with one, beady eye. He could practically _feel_ her judgment.

“Ah, fuck,” he said as turned away and he chased after him.

Geralt ducked under branches, danced around trees. Thankfully with his hearing he could keep track of the kitten, a few feet ahead, leaves crunching under his weight as he ran. Finally the kitten stopped. Geralt slowed a bit as he approached, pushing between two trees. The kitten had stopped in a clearing.

It was a flat piece of land and had been used once for a camp, judging by the remnants of a fire.

The kitten meowed and he walked over; he was standing in front of an instrument - _a lute_ , he thought, though he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t know much about that kind of stuff. It was leaning against a tree, had obviously been there for a while - weeks, maybe even months.

Geralt _hmm_ ed as he crouched down and picked the kitten back up, who squirmed in his arms. “What do you want?” he asked impatiently.

The kitten stared at him, meowing softer. Geralt glanced at the lute. His medallion trembled a bit.

“Did that belong to your owner?” he asked finally. Judging by his medallion, his owner had known magic of some kind. The kitten was quiet for a long moment before suddenly yowling, louder than before. Geralt winced as he snatched up the lute. The kitten quieted down instantly. “Is _this_ what you want?” he asked, and he swore the kitten nodded, ears twitching. “ _Fine_ ,” he said as he turned and trudged back to the path.

He was already traveling with an unplanned kitten, what was a lute added to the mix?


	2. Chapter 2

They stopped again a few hours later. Geralt prepared for the night - his usual routine - before he grabbed the kitten and searched for a stream.

Sitting on a rock, he gently washed the kitten off. From the small understanding he had of cats, they usually hated water but not him. He was annoyed, sure, but fairly docile as he cleaned the dirt from his fur. Finished, he placed him on the ground and cleaned himself. The kitten silently sat, waiting patiently until he was done.

Returning, he placed the kitten on his bedroll and went in search of food. He returned - thankfully - without a cat, but a sizable deer. He roasted it, quickly, and sat down on his bedroll. He shared with the kitten, of course.

He was full by the end of it, not an easy task. The kitten looked satisfied, too, propped up on his leg.

Geralt’s eyes flickered to the lute, leaned up against a tree. Pressing his lips together, he leaned over and grabbed it. Geralt did not know how to play _any_ instrument. He had had many years to learn, he just never saw the point. Music had never been a big part of his life, good or bad. Leaning back, he placed it between his legs and plucked lazily at the cords.

Again he was just glad there was no one there to see him.

The kitten perked up as he started playing - if it could even be called that.

Geralt arched an eyebrow. “What do you think?” he drawled. The kitten predictably did not reply, just pawed at the cords. Geralt snorted, adjusting the lute. “You’re going to ruin it,” he said, and the kitten stopped, sitting back.

Maybe he was losing his mind, or maybe it had just been too long since he communicated with a _person,_ because he kind of felt like the kitten was listening to him - could understand what he was saying - but that was just crazy, right?

Shaking his head, he moved the lute to the side and prepared for bed. He obviously needed it.

*

He woke up to the sound of the lute. Opening his eyes, he looked over at the kitten, pawing at the lute again. For a moment he just watched. The kitten wasn’t _playing_ anything, obviously, but it was still better than he could do.

Which was just sad, frankly.

Geralt sat up finally; the sun was high in the sky. Early morning. The kitten turned, tail swishing back and forth excitedly.

“Good morning,” he said, voice rough.

The kitten’s ears twitched before he ran over and pounced in the air. Geralt caught him before he could land on his dick - he was a _witcher_ , not indestructible. The kitten nuzzled underneath Geralt’s jaw, meowing.

“Stop it,” he grumbled. “Your nose is cold.”

The kitten did not stop, and he did not put him down, though he did pull him back to say, “We’re still a few days from the closest town.” The kitten stared at him, like he always did, like he was somehow understanding him. Geralt’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “I’m tired of calling you ‘ _kitten_ ’ in my head,” he continued. “You need a name.”

He probably had a name - _before_ \- but there was no way of knowing it now, especially since evidence pointed to his last owner being dead. Geralt didn’t know much about instruments, sure, but he knew they weren’t cheap.

No bard or otherwise would abandon their lute, unbroken, in the woods.

The kitten meowed loudly, looking away from him. Geralt followed his line of vision; the lute. He really had an obsession with that, huh? Probably smelled like his owner, though he was struggling to pick up on a scent.

That was when he noticed it, for the first time - there were dandelions etched in the wood of the lute.

Geralt blinked - once, twice. He turned back to the kitten, who stared back at him. “Dandelion.”

The kitten meowed, tail swishing back and forth in the air. He looked happy. Geralt nodded, scratching behind one of his ears.

“Well, okay.”

That had been unexpectedly easy.

*

They finally reached the town a few days later. Geralt hopped off and walked through town, pulling Roach behind him. Dandelion’s ears kept twitching, eyes darting all over the place. He was obviously overwhelmed by everything.

Geralt could honestly relate - he wasn’t a big fan of crowds himself.

Now there was just the problem of what to do with Dandelion. He couldn’t just drop him off _anywhere_. He needed to be somewhere _safe_ , and warm, and a place with lots of people, so his chances of getting picked up would be higher.

The market.

Geralt went to the inn first and rented a room, just for one night.

He started off in the direction of the market with Dandelion in his arms. He had been uncharacteristically quiet since he had stopped by the inn. Geralt wondered if, somehow, he understood what was happening. He wanted to tell him it was for the better, and was debating just doing that, when suddenly he was stopped by a woman and what seemed to be her husband, though he wasn’t sure.

“Uh,” he said.

The woman was older, fifty or sixty, and beamed at Dandelion. “Does she have a name?”

“Oh.” Geralt cleared his throat. “ _His_ name is Dandelion.”

If she was offended, she didn’t show it. She glanced at the man - her companion - and back again. “How much?” she asked, just as brightly.

Geralt blinked again. “What?” Dandelion meowed, the unhappiest he had ever heard him.

“We’ve been searching for a present for our daughter,” the woman said without missing a beat. “And he’s just perfect,” she cooed at Dandelion, who just hissed at her, pushing his ears back. Somehow she wasn’t deterred. Geralt was questioning her sanity. “Any amount, I mean it.”

Geralt glanced down at the kitten, still hissing. They were obviously well-off. Dandelion would be safe – and cared for – with them. It was perfect. But when he opened his mouth, all he could say was, “He’s not for sale. Sorry.”

He was surprised by his own words. The woman looked equally as surprised. “You must be joking.”

“I’m sure if you head right out there – ” he jutted his thumb in the direction of the woods “ – you’ll be able to find one of your own. Worked for me.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked off in the opposite direction of the market. Dandelion purred as he settled back down.

“What the fuck,” he grumbled to himself. “What’s a few more weeks?”

He would get rid of him in the city, where his odds would be even better.

*

Dandelion was quiet, for once, as they traveled toward the city and stopped nightly. Geralt found himself oddly unsettled by the quiet, something he had been so used to. _Before_.

On the third night, after eating, he picked the kitten up and dropped him in his lap. Dandelion stared up at him, unblinking. “What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly.

Because talking to a cat was just something he _did_ nowadays _._ Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Dandelion opened his mouth, showcasing sharp teeth, before closing it without even the smallest meow. Geralt could’ve sworn he looked like he was frowning.

“You’re smarter than you let on,” he remarked casually as he ran his hand down his back.

Dandelion still didn’t meow but he _did_ purr at the attention, ears twitching. Geralt smiled, small. He understood now, the appeal of pets. He was so used to being judged and misunderstood based on who he was and what he looked like, but Dandelion cared for none of that.

He just cared if he pet him and fed him. Easy tasks, really.

That’s not the real reason he had never wanted a pet. It was the danger. Since picking him up, he hadn’t taken any jobs or – thankfully – encountered any monsters. When and if he did, would Dandelion be okay? Would he get caught in the middle, injured or _worse?_

Dandelion was sweet, rambunctious. He deserved better than what he could offer him.

“I swear,” he said, “I will protect you with everything I’ve got until we find you a home.”

Dandelion yawned, whiskers twitching, as he curled up between his legs and fell asleep.

*

Life never went as planned, he had learned that lesson as a young boy. Geralt entered the city with Dandelion, on the back of his beloved horse. He jumped down, taking Dandelion out of the bag and cradling him, as he walked through the crowded streets.

He was passing the market, unsure of where he was headed, when he saw her.

Yennefer, in all her dark glory, standing over a stall and frowning at the man behind it. Geralt knew it was only a matter of time before the man regretted denying her. He turned, tugging on Roach’s reins, Dandelion curled in the crook of his elbow.

“Yennefer,” he called once he was close enough.

She sighed heavily, eyes closing briefly. “And what, pray tell, have I done to – ” Turning, finally, eyes opening, she paused abruptly. “ _Geralt_ ,” she said. “What the actual fuck are you carrying?”

Geralt glanced down at the kitten, still sleeping. “Certainly you have seen a cat before,” he drawled, unimpressed with her dramatics.

“Oh,” she said as she walked away from the stall, smiling nastily. “You don’t _know_.”

Geralt frowned at her. “You’re being cryptic again,” he said. “You know I hate that.”

Yennefer’s eyes flickered from the kitten to his face. “That’s not a cat, Geralt,” she said, pointing, nail painted black and shining under the sun. “That is a man.”

She had a habit of making jokes that fell flat, but this was a new low. “What are you talking about?”

Yennefer raised her eyebrows. “That is a man,” she repeated simply. “A _cursed_ man, to be exact.”

Geralt looked down at the kitten, no longer sleeping. Dandelion peered up at him with wide, expressive eyes. “ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed under his breath.

*

“Are you sure?” he asked as he paced the room, glancing over at the kitten, sitting calmly on the bed as Yennefer looked him over.

She lifted the kitten’s head, a finger under his chin. “Positive,” she confirmed without looking. “He was cursed. Messily, at that. I have the feeling it was a jealous ex-lover.” Turning, she sat on the bed. Dandelion pawed at her leg. “I can probably undo it, at a cost.”

He stopped suddenly, frowning. “You’re seriously expecting payment?”

Yennefer smiled sweetly, scratching the top of his head. “Fine, I can do my _one_ good deed of the year.” She placed her hands together in her lap. “But you will need to gather ingredients for me.”

He grimaced. “Make a list.”

*

When he returned, Yennefer was quick and precise in her movements. Geralt stood back, watching. Dandelion meowed when she stepped back. “Ready.”

“Well?” he prompted impatiently. “Do it.”

She cut her eyes at him. “I can’t guarantee this will work, not without knowing the incantation of the original curse,” she said sharply. “You understand that, right?”

Geralt nodded. “I do, but I highly doubt any man wants to continue, and finish, his life as a cat.”

Yennefer looked back, taking a deep breath, chest lifting and falling with it. She raised her hands, chanting under her breath. Geralt watched as her fingertips twitched with the force of her magic, fighting the curse.

Fingertips glowing, she chanted louder. Geralt could feel the magic in the air, like sparks.

Dandelion meowed loudly, echoing in the small room. Finally, there was a burst of light as Yennefer stumbled back. He caught her, holding her in his arms. She groaned. “Did it – did it work?” He glanced at the bed, the light slowly dispersing.

There, on the bed, was a naked man. He almost laughed. “You were right.”

The man had light skin, tall and lanky. His hair was brown, a bit long and falling in his face like a curtain. “Ugh,” he grumbled, pushing his hair back. He opened his eyes, the brightest blue Geralt had ever seen, and looked at him. “ _Fuck_.”

Geralt was a loss for words. Thankfully Yennefer was not. She stepped away from him. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was just turned back to a man after living as a kitten for weeks,” he replied dryly.

Yennefer nodded approvingly. “Good.” Without another word, she turned and walked to the door.

Geralt startled. “Where are you going?

She looked at him, unimpressed. “I am exhausted,” she said. “You two can use this room.”

“But – but you paid for it,” he stammered. Yennefer just waved him off as she opened the door, disappearing. The room was unnaturally silent without her presence. He turned slowly. “I’m sure your name isn’t Dandelion.”

He pointedly did not look at the man’s chest, or between his legs. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but it wasn’t for Dandelion, the kitten, to look like _that_. It felt like a cruel joke, making him so beautiful.

“Jaskier,” he corrected, “but I've been called Dandelion, so.” He smiled slightly. “Close enough.”

Geralt nodded. “Well,” he said stiffly. “You are free now. May you do with your life what pleases you.”

“That would start with some clothes, probably,” he said, grinning cheekily. “But hmm.” Glancing around him, he slid off the bed and grabbed the blanket. He wrapped the blanket securely around his shoulders, like a cloak. “This’ll do for now.”

Geralt’s eyes flickered away. “You can stay here,” he said, gesturing around at the room. “I paid for the night.”

Jaskier approached him. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?” he replied, looking at him again. Closer, he could see the brown specks in his eyes. He was a handsome man. He could easily believe Yennefer’s theory of a jealous ex-lover.

Jaskier smiled sweetly. “Like you’re planning to leave without me.”

Geralt stared at him. That had been what he was planning to do, yes, because Jaskier was cured now. He could be a free man. “I… don’t understand,” he said slowly.

“Hmm, well,” Jaskier said, spinning around, blanket spinning with him, a blur of color. “I have to say, I’ve quite enjoyed traveling with you these past few weeks.” He peered back at him from over his shoulder. “Even if you could be a bit… _odd_.”

Geralt shrugged sharply. “I’ve never had a cat before.”

Laughing softly, Jaskier spun back around, eyes sparkling. “I would like to continue, if that’s an option.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say. Traveling with a kitten, an end goal in mind, was wildly different from what Jaskier was asking for. He had never had a long-term travel companion. Had always been against them as a concept. His life was a dangerous one. No one deserved to be dragged down with him. He squared his shoulders. “I’d prefer if you – ”

“Wonderful,” he interrupted breezily, touching his arm. “We should rest; leave in the morning.”

His hand was warm, even through the many, many layers separating them. His eyes were even warmer. Geralt swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m not sure you want to do this,” he said finally with less conviction than he would’ve wanted.

Jaskier squeezed his arm, shuffling closer. “Oh, I do,” he assured him. “Thank you, Geralt, both for what you’ve done for me thus far and what is surely still to come.” He winked, spinning away. “Now I’ve been sleeping with you every night for how long, hm? We can skip the awkward ‘oh no, _you_ have the bed’ exchange by now and just agree sharing is best, yes?” He looked back, almost a challenge in his eyes.

Geralt let out a breath, a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, stepping forward. “We can.”

*

“So,” Geralt said, the room dark and quiet. “What was it, really?”

Jaskier sighed, head on his chest. When he had first placed it there, in _this_ form, he had frozen, a rushing in his ears. But Jaskier had stroked his arm, a silent comfort, and slowly he found himself relaxing, enjoying it.

“Your friend isn’t wrong,” he said with an almost sheepish grin. “It was a jealous ex-lover.”

Geralt hummed, low in his chest, staring at the ceiling.


End file.
